She Will Live
by KittyKnight
Summary: What if Maxon never jumped in front of America as the rebel aimed his gun at her? What if she was the one who was shot? Told through Maxon's eyes and taking place at the end of The One, America takes the bullet rather than Maxon, leaving her life on the line.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! So, this is my first time writing a fanfiction, so feedback would be MUCH appreciated! I hope you all enjoy!**

**And a heads up! This story is written in Maxon's POV.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any characters or settings used in this story; they all belong to the lovely Kiera Cass.**

I sit in the center of the ornate table with Kriss Ambers to my left, and the love of my life to my right. It's ironic, isn't it? People should be honored to sit on the right side. It should be a good thing. But America… America doesn't deserve an honored position with me at the moment. She's probably lost in thought about getting out of the palace so she can live the rest of her life with the real "prince" of her choosing. After all, she did call it a cage when she'd first arrived. I bet she still looks at it the same way.

I turn my head, just to sneak a glance at her. As much as I hate to admit it, I do love her, and who knows how much longer she'll be in my presence. But, much to my anticipation, she is looking at Officer Leger. She looks lost in thought; she always does. That's my America. My darling. My princess. My dear. She never did allow me to call her that last one. Now I know why.

"Trying to arrange a time to meet later?" I say through gritted teeth.

Her head whips around, and her eyes meet mine. I feel myself soften just for a moment, but then hide myself away again. "No, of course not."

"It's not like it matters," I tell her. It pains me to say this to her. I can see the sorrow in her sky blue eyes. "Kriss's family will be here this afternoon for a small celebration, and yours will be here to take you home. They don't like for the last loser to be alone. She tends to get dramatic."

I try not to let myself falter—this sense of detachment from her could be so easily lost.

Then, I remember the house I had given to her the night before. Her family was supposed to live there so they could be nearby. And those letters. I'd made myself so vulnerable in those letters. Every emotion, every thought, every feeling. I'd put them all into those letters. My throat catches, and I let out a breath. I offer her the coldest stare I could muster up.

"You can keep that house if you want. It's been paid for. I'd like my letters back though."

She looked as though she were holding back tears. "I read them," she whispered. Maybe she couldn't find her voice. "I loved them."

I huff. What a joke. She's lied to me before, why would she stop now? "Don't know what I was thinking."

Then she begins to lose it. "Please don't do this. Please. I love you." Her face crumples. I grit my teeth. "Don't. You. Dare." I stare blankly at her. "You put on a smile, and you wear it to the last second."

She blinks, clearing any sign of tears, and smiles weakly at me.

I feel my insides soften, turn to mush. It kills me to see her hurting like this. My face remains a stone. "That'll do. Don't let that slip until you leave the room, do you understand?"

She nods.

I look her in the eye again, all traces of sympathy washed away. "I'll be glad when you're gone."

I turn back to Kriss and offer her a smile. "So, tell me, what's your dream wedding like?" I catch glimpses of red out of the corner of my eye, but dismiss it as nothing.

That's when I hear the gunshot.

And the screaming begins.

"Get on the floor." I order Kriss, pushing her down under the table. "We're going to be fine."

She nods pathetically tears already gushing down her face. I glance over at America, just to check. When I look up, I see the barrel of a gun pointing at my face. My eyes widen, my heart begins to beat erratically inside my chest. I look down at America, who is already looking up at me.

For an instant, I lose myself in those beautiful blue eyes. I see them watching me, staring at me intently, as she saunters down the aisle. She looks beautiful in her long, white dress a smile displayed perfect across her face.

Another gunshot.

It draws me back into reality, and I see her.

Her body laying on the floor, and a red stain spreading out across the chest her magnificent dress.

"America!" I scream.

My eyes pool with tears. I quickly rip off my coat and dab it at the bullet wound, causing her the wince.

"America," I say again, this time in a whisper.

Her eyes never leave mine.

"America, I'm so sorry." I say, still helplessly trying to stop the bleeding.

"Go, Maxon." She tells me, which stings. "Save yourself."

"No, no, I can't—" I take in a sharp breath, trying to calm myself. "—just leave you here." I look over my shoulder and call, "Somebody, anybody, please help!"

"Maxon…" Her voice is hoarse. She places her hand gently on top of mine.

"I love you, America, I hope you know that." Tears slide down my cheeks and drip onto her arm. "Break my heart. Break it a thousand times if you like. It was only ever yours to break anyway." I let out a sob, my body shaking. "Every beat of my heart it yours." I turn over my shoulder and call out, "Somebody help, now!"

"Max..on." America says quietly. I turn back to face her.

"Yes?"

"I...love you."

My stomach tightens and my heart skips a beat. "I—"

"Your Majesty, you're going to need to move."

I look over to see a medic standing behind me, guarded from the rebels by Officer Leger. I nod, and glance down at America one more time. I stand and grab the medic forcefully by his collar. "I don't care what it takes, you make sure she lives."

He nods in understanding, picks up her limp, bleeding body, and takes her away.


	2. Chapter 2

**GUYS! Omg, guuuys, you have **_**no**_** idea how happy all your reviews made me xD. You all made my day, really. I'm smiling like an idiot right now. And I'm SO glad you all like the concept and the POV change...I hope you all continue to enjoy!:) I'll be sure to continue to update as soon as I can, alright?:)**

**DISCLAIMER: Everything still belongs to Kiera Cass.**

I sit alone in the Safe Room, my knees against my chest and my head in my hands. I shouldn't be here. I should be with her. With America. She needs me now. What if that was the last time I got to see her? What if that was the last time I got to look into her vibrant eyes, shining with love and anticipation?

My body trembles with another sob as the realization hit me. She was shot on the left side of her chest, just under her shoulder. She may be long dead by now, and I'd never know because I'm trapped in this God forsaken jail cell. I jump up and pound against the metal door.

"Open up!" I yell at it. I feel so helpless; I know I can't do anything about this. "Open up, you useless piece of scrap metal!" I let out a scream of frustration. This is pointless.

All I can hear is the hopeless sound of my fists against metal, and my body-wracking sobs. I cry for her. For America. For the life we wanted together. For the life we dreamed of, because I know she dreamed of it as well. For the life I'd almost ripped away from us, only hours ago. For the life we'll never get to have.

The sobs aren't all out of pain, necessarily. While much of it is, I'm also angry with myself. Angry that I'd nearly ruined both our lives. And why didn't I save her? Why didn't I jump in front of her and take the bullet? Or, at the very least, pushed her out of the way?

But she'd also betrayed me. She had an affair with him. With Aspen Leger.

That doesn't change the fact that she's dead now, or the fact that I love her. I love her dead or alive. I love her with or without Aspen Leger. I love her as a One or as a Five. I love her. It's as simple as that.

I'll never know if the feeling truly is mutual or not. She claimed for it to be, but I can't be so certain. She had never gotten the chance to prove herself because I'd never given it to her.

Now I could feel it. I could feel the gaping hole ripping apart my chest. All the guilt. All the sorrow. All the sadness and self-pity. Everything hits at once, almost knocking the wind out of me. I feel my stomach knot as I fall in on myself. No amounts of stitches or medical attention could heal this wound.

Never before had I felt so alone. Typically, I'm swamped in work. Papers usually litter my desk as a way to keep myself occupied. Now, it is just me alone in this Safe Room for who knows how long.

Seconds turn to minutes. Minutes turn to hours. Hours turn to what feels like days. With every tick of the clock, every beat of my heart, a new waves of pain courses throughout my body.

_She's dead. She's dead._

I sit again with my back to the wall and wait. That's all I can do.

After what feels like decades, the door finally opens, and a guard whom I have yet to learn the name of faces me.

"Your Majesty, it's safe to return now."

I nearly sprint out of the room. I turn back towards him. "Where is she?"

"Pardon?"

"Lady America!"

I don't even wait for an answer, I just call out "America" over and over again.

The guard grabs my arm and gives me a somber look. "Your Majesty, I know you are concerned about Lady America, but there's something else you must know…" His voice seems to trail off.

I don't say anything, waiting for him to continue.

"Your parents, Your Majesty...they...didn't survive the attack."

I don't realize what he'd just said at first. However, once it hit me, I feel my world fall through my fingers like sand. My parents are gone? They're dead? That can't be true, it has to be a mistake. They were here only a few hours ago. Mom was in the Women's Room with all the other Selected and Father was in his study. They can't just be gone. "N-no…" I croke. "Th-that can't be right, I-I…" Tears streak my face yet again. "I saw them only a few hours ago."

I feel like a child. Never before had I put myself in such a vulnerable position in front of another person. I feel my knees go weak. I'd never had a good relationship with my father, but I love him nonetheless. But, my mother… She was everything. As a child, I remember she used to sing me to sleep because I never could on my own. She never knew why. That didn't matter now. She's dead.

America. Mom. Father. Who else?

I take a deep, shaky breath and trick myself into feeling calm. "Sir, take me to Lady America. That's an order."

**Again, guys, thank you SO much for all the reviews, and I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as well. I'm sorry they're so short right now; I promise the next chapter will be longer. And, please, leave a review and tell me what you think!:)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Alright, guys. So, I'm sure you all probably hate me for going MIA for, what...maybe 8 months? I don't even know. But, that's beside the point, The school year is just about over and I am BACK! I still love reading all your comments and reviews, and I'm honestly kind of shocked by how badly you all want this updated. I have a few tricks up my sleeve so, be prepared.^^**

**DISCLAIMER: Nothing's changed. It all still belongs to Kiera Cass.**

The guard leads my down the halls as I continue to absorb the destruction around me. My home is now but a pile of debris. Glorified debris, but debris nonetheless. And I'm alone in this debris. Mom and Father are gone. America must be by now as well. She was shot through the chest; it would take a miracle to heal a wound like that.

Again, I nearly lost myself at the thought of being without her. The dull ache that found its home in my chest ignited and spread across my entire body. Is it possible to die of heartbreak? I hope so. I can't imagine a life without her.

I gasp at the sight of the Great Room. That ornate table is now knocked over and mostly red; the walls have countless holes gaping in them, and the chandelier lays shattered in millions of pieces across the expanse of the entire floor. My home...it's in ruins.

We turn another corner and we're in the Hospital wing of the palace. Nearly every bed is occupied with guards, maids or cooks from around the palace. All the selected are gone.

All but one.

"She's held in the last cot, Your Majesty."

I turn to the guard and offer him a solemn nod with a quiet "thank you."

I can't think about anything other than America at the moment. My heart heaves as I take long strides toward the last cot. My hair is disheveled from running my hands through it again and again. As I make my way through, medics give me quick bows and return to their work.

Much too long after, I arrive at America's cot. Her skin is pale, her eyes are closed, and her lips are chapped. Her hair lays across the pillow. What I notice, however, more than anything, is the large pad of gauze taped across her chest. I hear a shrill, constant beeping in the background.

She's alive.

I don't know why, but I cry at this knowledge. I cry at the gratefulness I suddenly feel. I take her hand and kiss it repeatedly, her knuckles, her palm, her wrist. America. She's alive. I can't stop from repeating her name to myself. America, America, America. America lives! I let out another sob, and the tears come in earnest.

"Oh, America, my dear..." My voice trails off.

"...Your Majesty?"

I turn around and meet eyes with Officer Leger. "Yes, Officer?"

The anger I feel towards this man dulls in comparison to the joy I feel in having America, awake or not, laying next to me, her hand still in mine. I lean against the bed, waiting for him to find words.

He opens his mouth a few times, only to close it again, before finding what he wants to tell me. "I want you to know that...everything you saw back there before the attack...it was all a misunderstanding. Mer-America...she's in love with you. I hope you believed her when she said it. I know she does. We were just having a rather..." He thinks for a moment. "-I'll say intense because I can't think of a better word-moment. She loves you, Your Majesty."

Now, I'm the one at a loss for words. God, what an idiot I am! I nearly ruined both of our lives for a miscommunication! If that attack never happened, and I proceeded to marry Kriss, I'd never forgive myself. I smile weakly at Leger. "Thanks for, um, clearing that up, Leger."

He shakes his head. "I just needed to get that out of the way."

I turn back towards America and stroke her hair. Although she's been through this immense peril, her hair still shines with life and is still just as soft. I run my hands through it and remember all the times I tangled them up in it because I was so lost by her touch.

I let go of her and pulled a chair up to her bedside. I made myself comfortable and sat with her.

I hear footsteps approach me and I look up at Gavril, a sympathetic look on his face. "Your Majesty," he allows himself a long, solemn bow. "My apologies regarding your parents."

I give a small smile.

"However, I know this time is inconvenient for you, but you must continue on where your father left off with official business."

I groan.

"I know, I know," he glanced at America, "this isn't the greatest point in your life-"

I interject, "That's an understatement."

Gavril stares blankly at me. "I know, but you still need to carry on. You can work here, but you still need to work." He hands me a few documents and a binder filled with Father's notes. "He was working on a new foreign policy that now involves New Asia even more than in the past. It's kind of similar to the Open Door Policy when China still existed, but I don't know enough about it to give you anything solid..."

I read through the papers, rereading each paragraph a few times to make sure I completely understand everything it is saying. "He wants to open up New Asia's trade to almost every country." I state, more so to myself. "If I remember correctly, this is exactly like the Open Door Policy." To be honest, I don't know how I knew that. "That's...not a very smart move though. We want to keep New Asia on close terms with us, not allow them to start alliances with other nations. That's actually still very unlikely to happen, but social interactions are more powerful than most people think..." I go silent, soaking in more words. "Gavril, please hand me a pen."

I open the binder of Father's notes and turn to the nearest blank page and begin scribbling down some of my own. _Review Open Door Policy from the US textbook in the library. Social and economic interactions may lead to straying alliances-look into effects of ODP before making any more advances._

The next time I look up, I notice that Gavril had left. I shrug and scan over Father's notes. I see where he is going with this new foreign policy, but there are unanswered questions here.

I hear stirring next to me, and my eyes dart over. America's eyes are open-barely, but they still are. "...Maxon?"

However frail, her raspy voice sounds like music, like a melody I've been aching to hear. I gently take her hand, newfound tenderness overwhelming me. I lived through who knew how many days believing America was dead, and now she's here next to me. "Oh, America..." I kiss her hand.

She gives me a weak smile. "You're here."

I answer with a simple, "I love you."

Her eyes shine. "I love...you, too." Silence. "I'm so sorry, Maxon."

I shush her. "Don't." I lightly squeeze her hand, my heart in my throat. I've given it to her. "Don't even worry about apologies."

I feel tears swell at the corners of my eyes and stick to my lashes. Never before had I cried this much, but how could I not? The love of my life is here, her hand in mind. Alive. And she's going to stay that way.

**Again, I'm sooo sorry for my long absence, but I hope you enjoyed this chapter! (And I hope it lived up to your expectations). I will definitely start working on chapter four and get is posted ASAP. Trust me:). Thanks, guys!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Alright, so here is the next installment of **_**She Will Live**_**! I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I do writing it!**

**DISCLAIMER: It's still Kiera Cass' characters and settings, and it always will be.**

America's squeeze on my hand is light, but it's there. And that's all I need. Her tiny grip, so assuring, even as she sleeps. She'd only been away for a few minutes. But now, confident in her life, I can relax, and finish up my royal duties with one hand. Literally.

I jot down a few notes on this new foreign policy with New Asia and listen to the rhythmic beat of the heart monitor behind me. Never before have I heard anything quite as beautiful. The constant scribble of my pen; the beep of the monitor. This has become my home for the past few hours. I'd only left once because one doctor that I still don't know the name of wanted to check me out—bruises, cuts, scraps and the like. That was done within twenty minutes.

America and these thirty plus residents of the hospital wing were the real concerns.

I can't explain it. The devastation my home has seem, both physical and emotional. Its walls and broken open; its windows shattered. Its tapestries torn from the walls, its chandeliers ripped from the ceiling. Everything that was here is either in pieces or stolen.

Its also seen my parents die—the king and queen. Its watched its future princess' (and now queen's) life be put on the line as well. Its witnessed its guards, maids, chefs, everyone be put into danger and be killed for the honor of keeping it alive.

This palace should be honored.

_No, Maxon, you should be honored._

That's what my mother would have said.

I notice I'd stopped writing. My hand had stopped moving in the middle of the word "foreign." All I'd written down was "forei" before my hand subconsciously ceased writing.

Why?

I watch a drop of water drip onto the page. Then another. And one more.

Oh. I'm crying.

The thought of Mom was too much for my wounded heart to bear. I feel my hand go limp, and my pen drops to the floor with a quiet _clunk_. I put my face in my hands, resting my elbows on Father's binder. Mom. I'll never hear her voice again. I remember how she used to sing me to sleep. How she used to laugh at all my dumb jokes that Father would scold me for. How she always looked on the bright side of things, no matter how badly in the dark side we were.

That's something I need right now. And the only person like that is one of the numbers in the body count.

Frantically, I swipe the tears away from my cheeks with the heels of my hands. I take a deep, shaky breath and pick up my pen. Father wouldn't want you to be crying, Maxon. The king doesn't cry. He does what needs to be done for his country, and right now, this needs to be done.

I sigh and continue to write.

I hit a flaw in my plan. Even if I only open up New Asia's ports to Swendway, there's the possibility that we could lose an ally (New Asia) rather than gaining a new one (Swendway). Illéa is in ruins right now because of this past devastating attack, and no country would want to partake with a crumbling country. The rebels are stronger than ever. That should be my first target. The rebels.

But how?

This is why I need Father. He was strict and disciplinary, but he was wise. Mom was the compassionate one. But right now, for this new policy, I don't need compassion. I need wisdom and experience, and right now I don't have either.

Right now, I am a hopeless wreck who just went through the emotional trauma. I shouldn't be dealing with our country's wellbeing while I can't deal with my own.

No.

The king does what needs to be done for his country, and right now, this needs to be done. Yet, I've stopped writing again. Another drop of water on my paper. Great. More waterworks. You the man, Maxon!

I let out a shaky sigh and rub hard on my eyes.

I almost didn't notice it, but something about the rhythm of the atmosphere felt off. I figured it out as people began rushing to the cot I was sitting next to. America's monitor had flat-lined, and the consistent beeping had stopped.

I turned over my shoulder and looked at America, and I mean _really_ looked at her. Her complexion is pale, her lips are chapped, the gauze seeps a sickening shade of red. The air smells rotten. It smells of death. As I notice this, time seems to slow down. Doctors and other medical supervisors rushed in, jolting her heart with a mysterious number of electrical watts.

Everything sounds as if I am underwater. I hear doctors yelling, "Clear!" As they shock America's lifeless body, but everything sounds muffled. It feels as if I'm being crushed. My body feels limp and useless.

"Your Majesty?" I hear someone say.

I don't respond.

"Your Majesty, you need to move!"

I still don't respond.

"Your Majesty!" He begins to hustle me out of the room and back into the hall. However, I don't remember getting to the hall. All I remember is saying "America" one last time, before dipping into unconsciousness.

I was swimming through blackness, the unknown. My head darts around, trying to find some source of light, but everything is in complete and utter darkness. I try to call out, but I can't find my voice. I couldn't find anything. When I held my hands out in front of me—or at least thought I held my hands out in front of me—I couldn't see them.

I really hope this is death coming upon me.

I was unaware of everything. Although, I was not blissfully unaware. The _only thing_ I was aware of was the constant pull of dread and agony on me, trying to pull me down further. After frantically fighting against the inevitable pull, I learned that feeling pain is simply a reminder that you're still alive. Because of this, I realized that I, in fact, am alive, and will unavoidably have to live in a world where America no longer exists.

But that's all I know as of now.

Pain.

And that's all I will know.

Pain.

Because without America, that's the only comfort I'll have to remind myself of her.

Pain.

So, I let myself be dragged under by it. It's not worth fighting anyway.

**So, I hope you** **all enjoyed this chapter! Again, keep posting reviews and critical feedback to help my improve! Thank you all again so much, guys! I'll write soon!**


	5. Chapter 5

**So, I love the feedback that's been coming in. Nothing like a good review telling me how I've made them cry xD. I'm maniacal, aren't I? Anyhoo, here's chapter five. I hope it lives up to your expectations.^^**

**DISCLAIMER: I still own absolutely nothing.**

When I finally come to my senses, there is a soft yellow light drifting in through my window. My neck is sore, as well as my back. The room smells stale and uninhabited, but feels light. Quite the opposite of how I am feeling.

_Don't think that way, Maxon. She'll be fine. Positive thoughts._

I groan and roll over. I felt like I'd only slept two hours.

"Actually, Your Majesty, you've slept for thirty six." A quiet voice says from the corner of my room.

I bolt upright in my bed and look around frantically. I meet the timid gaze of Lucy, standing shyly in the corner. How long had she been there? Her hair fell delicately across her shoulders, but she seemed emotionally disheveled.

"Oh," I chuckle lightly. "I must have said that out loud, didn't I?"

Lucy nods. "You passed out when Lady America flat lined, Your Majesty. You haven't woken up in a day and a half."

The pain was too much for me to bear. I slept it off. But hearing that phrase. _Flat line. _There's no way she's alive. I'm sure that would have been the first thing I heard from Miss Lucy: a squeal of joy exclaiming, "America is okay, America is okay!"

But there was none of that. There was only quiet insecurity and disheveled hair. I swing my legs over the side of my bed. I'd somehow made it into my boxer shorts and an undershirt. I look up at Lucy then back down at my attire. then back up at Lucy. Oh, God, did she dress me?! I internally groan. I shake off that disturbing suspicion and ask the question I've been dreading to know the answer to.

"How's America?"

Lucy does not look up. She's in the corner, mindlessly sweeping a clean area of my room. "I don't know." Her voice is barely above a whisper. I can see the tears running down her cheeks even from the distance. "She's allowed no visitors in the critical care center."

My heart drops. "Critical care?" I pause then gesture for her to come sit next to me on my bed.

She joins me as she says, "Yes, they had to put her on life support—she's fallen into a coma."

I gasp at the words. America? My strong, beautiful, independent America in a coma? Being held together by life support? America won't take support from anyone, let alone a machine; she's much too stubborn. If she knew what they had her on, she'd be furious.

But she won't know. She never will.

What's that theory that people can hear what others say to them even while they are in a coma? I internally beg for that to be true, just so I can tell her I love her one more time, and say an actual goodbye. A goodbye to my never-to-be-wed wife.

I stare at my hands in my lap, feeling another wave of tears streak my face. I have no words for Lucy. I can't console her; I can hardly console myself.

My America. My precious America. My wife. My queen. My dear America. I drop my face into my hands and sob. My body shakes silently, my weeps too powerful to even make a noise. The only instance I can think to compare it to would be that of when you laugh so hard you can't breathe and no noise is made, but this instance cannot be compared to anything as joyous as laughter.

"Your Majesty," Lucy says gently as she places her hand on my back. I'm barely aware of what is happening outside of my head.

Our entire journey together—so preciously short—replays through my head. My first meeting with her as she stumbles down in the main hall, gasping for air, and to be freed from this cage. Her knee to my groin. All the ear tugs and stolen glances. All the intimate moments, all the fights. All the insecurity, all the certainties.

Before you die, your life flashes before your eyes. However, this isn't my death. It's America's death, and our life together was too painstakingly short. A car accident. A freak death. Gone too soon.

"Lucy, I—" I can't find my words. "I—I need to be alone." I look up at her, my eyes wet with tears. "Thank you for everything you've done for her. I know she loved you."

Lucy frantically wiped her tears away from her face. "We all loved her." Then she was gone.

I stood up and walked over to the collage on my wall. Countless pictures of every Selected were mounted up there: Kriss' beaming face in the Women's room, Celeste's sassy pose as she discusses something with Elise, looking elegant as ever. Marlee, waiting hopefully outside of America's closed door. America, snapped by me as she opened her door for me to come inside. She had no idea what was coming, so the look on her face was shocking anger. America again, of us in the royal sashes from the start of the competition. America again and again and again.

With a scream, I began tearing down every picture from my wall that wasn't America. She is the only one; she has always been the only one. Why do I have these meaningless pictures of other girls up on my wall? My wife is dying, and here I was, staring at old pictures of girls who mean next to nothing to me. My screams turn into sobs and my sobs turn into weeps. I fall to the floor, torn pictures scattered on the floor around me. America is gone. She's gone. And I can't save her.

I look to my left and seethe white back of a face down picture. I pick it up and see America standing on her balcony, her chin in her hand, gazing up at the stars. Her red hair blew gracefully in the breeze and the moonlight caught on her pale skin.

Her eyes looked so distant, so lost in thought. I love that about her. I love her determination, her idolization.

I pick up the picture and stare intently at it, trying to memorize every little detail from the freckle on her bare shoulder, to the slight curve of her hip. I grip the photo forcefully in both my hands. Tears fall onto the glossy surface and splash onto her face. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself to stop crying. Kings don't cry Maxon. You're a king, aren't you?

No. You're not. Not without America as your queen.

I sigh, and lay back on my cold wooden floor. I hold the picture up in front of me, arms extended all the way out. No more tears fell from my eyes; I think I've cried them all. But my heart still aches for America. I clutch the picture desperately to my chest.

"Oh, please, America. Wake up."

**So, there's chapter five! Again, reviews, suggestions and criticism is always nice to read, so comment away, guys! I shall update soon~**


End file.
